


Waiting For a Winter To Be Done

by Chash



Series: Weary With Right Angles [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Holidays, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wants to bring Bellamy home for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For a Winter To Be Done

"Do you have a house?" Miller asks, when he comes home from work and finds Clarke on the couch, working on a sketch for her art class.

"I'm a college student, why would I have a house?"

Miller snorts and hangs up his coat. "Yeah, fine. I'm getting a beer, you want one?"

Clarke looks down at her drawing and shrugs. It's not like it's due _tomorrow_. "I could use a beer, sure. Thanks."

A minute later, he returns from the kitchen with two beers, hands her one and gets the Playstation running so he can keep going with Final Fantasy XIII-2, which she's 95% sure he just started playing because Bellamy gets so angry about the mixture of Roman and Arabic numerals in the name. It's hilarious.

After a month, she wouldn't say she and Miller are friends, exactly, but they're not friends in the most positive possible way. 

"Did you make up your mind about Christmas?" she asks.

"What about it?"

"Is Monty going home with you?"

"Oh, no." He gives her half a smile. "I can't get that much time off work, so I'm basically just taking a long weekend. And I'd rather--I don't want him to have to deal with the fallout on the holiday."

"You know he would, though, right? Like, if you asked--"

"I definitely know, yes." He flashes Clarke an almost-smile, the most genuine he's ever given her. "We talked it through extensively, don't worry."

"Cool." She puts her feet up on the table. "I was gonna ask Bellamy if he wanted to come home for Christmas with me. Think it's a good idea?"

"What's the downside?"

"I don't know. It's too soon?"

"Even if it is--which I'm not saying it is, you guys are soulmates, timelines are weird--what's gonna happen? He'll say he doesn't want to go. Don't tell me that would be a problem for you."

"No. I mean--I do Christmas with my dad. I want him to meet my dad. But there's no rush or anything."

"So, yeah, ask him."

Clarke considers him. "That was definitely the most mature conversation we've ever had."

"I know, it sucked. Let's never do that again."

"Deal," she says, and she's half asleep on him by the time Bellamy gets back from his office hours. She's not sure what it is about their couch that makes her always want to pass out, but she likes it. It's nice.

"Don't move, I want a picture of this," he says, pulling out his camera. Miller lets him take one before he flips him off, because Miller is secretly nice. 

Bellamy disappears into his room to change into pajamas, and then he's back on the couch with them; Clarke flops over so she's snuggling with him instead.

"Yeah, I see how it is," says Miller, and Bellamy kisses Clarke's hair.

"Always the bridesmaid, never the bride," he says. There's a pause and then he adds, "I fucking hate this game."

Miller smirks. "I know you do."

*

Friday is their regular game night, so she doesn't get a chance to talk to Bellamy about Christmas until Saturday. Which isn't actually too bad, honestly. It's Monty's mom's birthday, so he and Miller take off early to go to Providence for the day, leaving Clarke and Bellamy with the apartment to themselves. And it's not like she _minds_ having Monty and Miller around; she likes them. The apartment is large enough--with thick enough walls--that the only real issue with having four people around is occasional lines for the bathroom. She likes it, most of the time. It feels--companionable.

Still, there's something to be said for Bellamy finding her at the stove first thing in the morning and getting her off with his fingers just because he can.

"Good morning to you too," she says, melting back against him.

"Hi." He presses a kiss to her shoulder. "You never get up before me."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine. I was _going_ to bring you breakfast in bed, but--"

He laughs. "You want me to go back to bed?"

"Wash your hands first, you don't know where I've been."

"I think I do," he says, but he obediently washes his hands, kisses her temple, and steals a piece of bacon. "I'll even act surprised."

He does, too. When she comes into the bedroom, he's on his laptop, glasses askew on his face, and he smiles at her and says, "Wow, breakfast in bed, you shouldn't have," and she snorts and kisses him.

"You're a dork."

"Yeah."

They get the dishes arranged with some difficulty; Bellamy and Miller don't have trays or anything, so it's a little awkward, and it ends up more like a picnic on the bed than anything, but Bellamy's smiling.

"Seriously, this is great, but what's the occasion?" he asks. "Did I do something wrong?"

Clarke snorts. "I do something nice for you and your immediate reaction is that you fucked up?"

"Maybe you're easing me into it."

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to come home with me for Christmas."

"Okay."

"I know it's soon and you've got your own family, but Thanksgiving was kind of--I feel like we should have each others' backs on holidays. But Christmas is with my dad, and it's usually good, so I guess it's not really--I just want you to meet him."

"Clarke," he says, smiling. "I said okay. I would love to meet your dad."

"Oh. I thought you just mean, like-- _okay, keep going_."

"Nope. You don't need to convince me. Thanksgiving sucked, and O is bringing Lincoln home for Christmas, so it might be better if I'm not there anyway, honestly."

"Why?" she demands, and he grins.

"Because I'll be a dick to him. I can't help myself. You don't have to get defensive for me. If my mom's gonna be weird about anyone's soulmate, it's mine, not O's."

"That doesn't actually make me feel better."

"Really? It makes me feel better."

"But you love being a dick to Lincoln."

"Yeah, but I'm allowed to. I raised her. I've earned the right to have opinions on this shit."

"By that logic, your mom has no right to be a dick to me."

"She won't. She'll be a dick to me about you." He moves the plates out of the way so he can tug her against him again. "I'm not actually worried. What's she gonna do? If it gets bad, we'll just stop going to my house for any holidays until she gets her act together."

It makes Clarke smile. "Okay, so, Christmas with my dad. You don't mind going to Oregon?"

"Is there something wrong with Oregon? Before you answer, remember I usually go to Vermont. It's already boring and cold."

"I love you," she says, and his hand slides up under her pajama shorts to trace his name on her skin.

"You do," he says, pushing her back on the bed, his mouth finding her throat. "It's pretty fucking great."

*

"So, you're taking Bell home with you?" Octavia asks, leaning on the counter while Clarke waits for her coffee.

"Are you going to try to intimidate me or something?" she asks, interested. "Tell me you'll kill me if I hurt him? I didn't think this was gonna be a big thing for you."

Octavia snorts. "I'm just making conversation. But he is excited."

"Really?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"I dunno. I just hadn't noticed. He's been playing it cool. He's not always convincing at that."

"True. But yeah, I think he's pumped. He already gave me my present and said I couldn't open it until Christmas, but--" She sighs. "Honestly, I think he's probably happy to have a good excuse to not see Mom."

"I'm basically on his side on that one. No offense. She sounds a lot worse than my mom."

Octavia's mouth twitches. "You guys are cute. He says the same thing about your mom."

"Yeah, but I'm _right_ ," Clarke says, and Octavia upgrades to a grin. "And Lincoln's coming home with you, right? Are you guys officially together yet?"

She heaves an enormous sigh. Clarke doesn't really think it's like it's having a baby sister of her own, but she's hoping it might be someday. "Kind of? He stopped doing his whole _you should date other people, Octavia_ thing," she says, dropping her voice low to imitate her soulmate. "But we're still not, you know."

"No sex?" she supplies.

" _None_ ," says Octavia, miserable. "And I know you're crazy about my brother, but you've seen Lincoln. Back me up on this. You would hit that."

"Assuming we were in a universe where he didn't have a soulmate, I didn't have a soulmate, and we were both single, yeah. Totally. He's awesome."

"Exactly."

"Why doesn't he want to? It's been--how long have you guys known each other?"

"Six months."

"That's a while," Clarke admits, trying to imagine it. She and Bellamy hadn't lasted even one. Monty and Miller are having more sex than Octavia, and Monty doesn't even like sex that much.

"I want to blame Bell, like, he got in Lincoln's head or something, but--I think it just freaks him out how young I am. And I can't actually get pissed around that. I'm a freshman in college. I know he loves me, but--"

"Six years is a lot."

"Yeah. And he's got a job and a real life and I'm living in a dorm and buying booze with fake IDs. I just wish he wasn't _quite_ such a good guy," she tells Clarke, with a wry smile.

"I can't believe Bellamy doesn't like him," she says, and Octavia laughs. "Maybe the trip will help. Are you guys gonna share a room? That's classic rom-com."

"I don't know if I really want to hook up at my mom's house," she says, and Clarke coughs.

"I wasn't even _there_ for Thanksgiving and your brother got laid at your mom's house."

" _Clarke_."

"Sorry. But it's true."

"I really don't need to know when or where my brother gets laid, thanks."

Clarke takes a sip of her coffee, innocent. "Everywhere, all the time."

Octavia shoves her away from the counter, and Clarke's smiling all the way back to her dorm.

*

"So, what does your dad like?" Bellamy asks, poking at a cardboard cutout of Spider-Man.

Monty was worried about finding a present for Miller, so he dragged her and Bellamy to the Cambridgeside Galleria to shop. Bellamy is surprisingly okay with it; Clarke sort of pegged him for one of those people who would hate all the Christmas hype, but maybe Octavia is right, and he does seem really excited about Christmas with her dad. 

"I usually just do a painting for him for Christmas."

"That's not helpful."

"You could do a painting for him too."

"I want him to like me, remember?" He glances at Monty. "You know this is a terrible place to shop for Miller, right?"

"Yeah, I regretted it basically as soon as we came in. But I thought you might still need stuff." He glances at them. "I haven't gotten you guys anything either."

"You maybe shouldn't have asked us to shop with you," Clarke teases, and Monty grins back.

"Now you can tell me exactly what you want. Do they have a Hot Topic? I know that's what Bellamy's into."

"It's like _you're_ my soulmate," he says, deadpan. "Seriously, Clarke, help me find something for your dad so Monty can buy us shit while we're distracted."

"You know you don't have to get him anything, right?" She tangles their fingers together and squeezes. "You've never met him."

"I bet he's getting me something. Besides, I'm making a good impression. I already got a bottle of wine to give him to thank him for letting me stay."

"Bellamy," Clarke says. "You already made a good impression. You're my _soulmate_. Of course he thinks you're great. I love you and you make me happy. You're probably his favorite person in the world he isn't related to."

He ducks his head. "Yeah, but--I don't want him to just like me because I'm your soulmate."

"Okay, so--get him something you like."

He snorts. "I don't think you get how presents work."

"I'm being helpful, dick. Get him a book you like or a video game you're into or something. Something he can do and then you guys can talk about it. Something so he can get to know you."

"Huh. That actually is helpful."

"It's like I like you or something."

"Or something. Does he actually play video games? What systems does he have?"

She laughs and squeezes his hand again. "He likes Nintendo."

"I can work with that."

*

They do a small, quiet gift exchange with Monty and Miller the night before they go to Oregon; everyone basically gives everyone else games, except Miller, who actually bought Clarke a really nice paint set that gets her a little choked up.

"Where did you find this?"

Miller shrugs in the overly casual way that means he's pleased. "Asked my coworker in graphic design. It's not a big deal. It wasn't expensive or anything."

Clarke hugs him anyway, and he pats her arm, awkward, and then they spend the rest of the night playing Tokaido.

The next day, Bellamy manages to maintain his general positive attitude until they're actually on the plane, at which point his nerves set in. She lets him drum his fingers on the arm rest for about five minutes before she takes his hand.

"Sorry," he says, with a sheepish smile.

"I can't tell if you're afraid of flying or just finally getting nervous about meeting my dad."

"I've been nervous about that," he protests. And then, "I've never actually flown before."

"Really?"

He strokes his thumb over her knuckles. "I drive everywhere."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't really think I was going to miss this just because I've never been on a plane, did you?"

"I like knowing things about you."

So he tells her about the drive from North Dakota to Vermont when he was a kid, the farthest he's ever gone, three days on the road, sleeping in the car, looking over his shoulder every few hours to convince himself his mom's soulmate wasn't following them. His hand tightens on hers a little when they take off, but that's it, and he relaxes quickly.

"Do you want to travel more?" she asks.

"Yeah. I wanted to go everywhere when I was a kid."

"Everywhere?"

He grins. "What? I never found anywhere that didn't sound cool." He leans his head against hers. "I bet you've been a lot of places."

"Yeah."

"What's your favorite?"

"I really liked Paris."

"You would."

"We should go some time. Not Paris, just--somewhere. Wherever you want. Over the summer."

He laughs, soft. "Maybe. Let's see how I do with flying first."

He's fine, of course. Once he's stopped being anxious, he gets out his 3DS and Clarke gets out her Kindle and Bellamy's complaining that flying is _boring_ in no time.

As soon as the descent starts, he remembers to be nervous again, but Clarke's pretty sure that's Dad-based, not plane-based. Either way, he squeezes her hand white.

Jake is waiting for them in the baggage claim, looking a little older than Clarke remembers. She usually only sees him at Christmas, in DC with her mom if he can make the timing work, but most years in Oregon. Either way, Christmas is _his_ holiday. They always spend it together.

He lights up when he sees her, swings her up in his arms and twirls her around before turning his attention to Bellamy. Jake has a few inches on him, and when Bellamy goes for a handshake, Jake wraps him up in a hug too.

Clarke has to bite back on a snicker at Bellamy's _face_. She tried to warn him her dad liked him.

"Great to finally meet you," he says, like he's been waiting for years instead of two months. "Of course, Clarke sends so many selfies I feel like we've already met."

"I've sent like _five_ ," she says. "Don't freak him out."

"I would never," says Jake. "Did you guys check bags? Or are we ready to roll?"

"Just one," says Clarke, and Jake claps Bellamy on the back and slings his arm around Clarke, leading them toward the baggage claim. Bellamy still looks vaguely dazed, and Clarke gives him a grin over her shoulder. It's enough to relax him, and it feels--nice. She's never brought anyone to meet her dad before, and it feels weightier than when she and Finn had dinner with her mother and Marcus. She doesn't think it's just that he's her soulmate; her dad is the most important person in her life, outside of--

Outside of Bellamy, now.

It's a big deal, that they're meeting each other.

Jake asks Bellamy about his PhD program in the car, and Bellamy is--well, she'd say he's Bellamy, but he's nervous in a way she's never seen before, and it's honestly adorable. Clarke doesn't _want_ her boyfriend to be terrified of her dad, but it's a little cute how much he cares about Jake's opinion of him, and even cuter that he doesn't seem to realize it's _done_. He'd have to be a serial killer for Jake to not like him.

But that's part of Bellamy's charm; he doesn't realize people already love him. She's still not sure he totally gets how much _she_ loves him.

The grab some dinner on the way home, and by the time they're actually at the house, Bellamy has settled in and stopped acting like every question Jake asks is secretly a test. 

At least, until Jake says, "I've got your room ready for you guys, the bed is a bit small, but I figured you'd rather share your room than take the guest room. It's ready too, though, if you want."

"I can take the guest room," Bellamy says, immediately.

Clarke hides a smile. "It's not a test."

"You are aware that my daughter called me in the middle of the night to tell me she met you and sent a picture of the two of you in your pajamas?" Jake says, mild. "I assume you weren't sleeping on the couch."

Bellamy looks at Clarke, and she sighs. "Come on, I'll show you the room," she says, grabbing their bag and taking him upstairs.

There really isn't any _need_ for Clarke to have her own room in her dad's house; it's not like she's ever lived there. She only sees him a few weeks a year. But he told her she'd always have a place with him if she needed it, and he meant it. They set up the room together when she visited spring break of her junior year of high school, and every time she steps in it, she just feels--loved.

"He really doesn't mind?"

"Come on, Bellamy," she says, tugging him in for a light kiss. "I'm twenty-one. You're my soulmate. He knows I'm at your apartment most of the time. He's not an idiot. You can sleep in the guest room if you want, but I sleep better with you, and he's not going to get upset because we're not married or anything. He _likes you_."

"He does, doesn't he?"

She laughs. "I thought you were excited about this."

"I was. I just thought it would be more of a challenge."

"Are you disappointed my dad approves of you? Did you want to have to convince him you were worthy?"

"No," he says, but it's a little grudging. He sighs, rests his forehead on hers. "I could, though. I am."

"You are." She rubs her hand in his hair. "You don't have to do any work to make my dad think that, Bellamy. Don't you know how I talk about you? I've already told him all this great stuff." She kisses him, still soft. "I totally stole your thunder."

He smiles. "Okay, I'll sleep here. We're not having sex while we're here."

"We definitely are."

"Fine, we're not having sex while your dad is home."

"Maybe not."

He laughs and slides his arms around her, kisses her warm and slow, easy. Her fingers find his arm, where her name is, under his sleeve. They're _good for each other_. Everyone can see that.

"We're not having sex right now," he says.

"No. I figured we'd go back downstairs and be social. You can still be charming, you know. Just because he likes you doesn't mean he can't like you _more_."

"He could still like me better than you," he says, and Clarke laughs.

"There you go. Realistic goals." She gives him one last kiss before she pulls away. "Thanks for coming home with me."

"Thanks for having me."

*

She wakes up alone, as usual, and she's pleasantly surprised to find Bellamy has left the room and is probably actually interacting on his own. She likes the idea of him and her dad hanging out, having breakfast together, getting to know each other without her.

It's going to be such a merry Christmas.

When she gets to the kitchen, it's just Bellamy at the table, drinking coffee and reading one of his textbooks, looking relaxed and easy.

"Hey, where's Dad?"

"Shower," he says.

"Did you guys bond?"

"He totally likes me better now."

She leans down for a kiss. "I'm sure."

"I'm the son he never had."

"He definitely never had a son."

"We're getting matching tattoos."

"Can I design them?"

"Obviously." He grins. "It was good, seriously. We had a serious talk about how he's happy we found each other and I should keep doing what I'm doing. Parental validation is weird. What's it like having that growing up?"

"It's nice," she says. "I wish you had it too." She pours herself some coffee and settles in next to him, picking through the paper for the comics. She only ever reads them at home, doesn't care about them, but it's _tradition_ at home. "We can share, you know. He's going to call you to check in on me now. And vice versa."

"He's known me for a day," Bellamy says, but he doesn't actually sound particularly unconvinced. Just amused. "What does he have to check in on?"

"Dad stuff." She leans her head on his shoulder. "I'm going to be a mess when you meet my mom."

He kisses her temple. "I know. I'm already preparing myself." He pauses. "I don't give a shit if my mom likes you. As long as she doesn't try to screw it up."

Clarke snorts. "She can try. I'd kick her ass."

"So we can just keep your dad," he says. "If our other parents fall through."

"Basically." She kisses his arm, right where she knows her name is. "And we've got each other."

"Yeah," he agrees. "We've got each other."


End file.
